


Promise Me

by FreckledDragon



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, In the Maze, Loneliness, M/M, Romance, Spoilers, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledDragon/pseuds/FreckledDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is late. The doors are about to close, and Newt doesn't know what to do. He promised always to come back, so he would make it, wouldn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The broken promise

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at Newtmas fanfic.  
> Don't know how far I'll go with this, we'll see how you guys like it!  
> Feedback is very much appreciated! :-)  
> No warnings atm, but perhaps later?  
> Thank you for reading! xoxo

It wouldn’t be long now. Every shovel of dirt, every root cut, every complaint he had to withstand, all his hard labour would all be worth it in a moment. Newt was doing some final work to end the day, and couldn’t stop glancing towards the west doors in anticipation of what – or rather, who – would come out of there.

None of them had seen it coming. It had just… happened. Since the first day, the greenie had caught the attention of the second in command – and pretty much everyone else, considering the stunt he pulled off by surviving the maze and even killing grievers. While he had been in the maze fighting for his life, Newt had been going through his own battles as well. His best friends had been out there – Alby and Minho – but somehow he found that he cared just as much for the greenie, Thomas. He didn’t know when it started – if it was the time by the bonfire, where he had discovered the ease he felt while talking to him, or if it was when he found out the greenie was alive against all odds. Either way, at some point he had fallen for the curious adventurer, and against everything he believed, Thomas felt the same way. It took nerve-wrecking hours of thinking the other was dead, but at last he had confessed not-so-subtly by crushing the doe-y eyed brunet in a hug forcibly making him promise to never repeat the incident ever again. Thomas had just held him until he nearly passed out from fatigue, after which Newt fussed about him, taking care of his every need. Since then, they had secretly stolen kisses from each other and fallen asleep in each other’s arms every night. Newt would send him off in the morning and be the first to greet him when he returned from the maze.

He shook his head to try to get rid of the brunet, but failed miserably as he always seemed to occupy his mind. He dug the shovel into the dirt again, focusing on his work, but less than half a minute later his eyes wandered to the great gates through where the brunet had disappeared this morning. Realising he wouldn’t be of much help in this state of mind, he decided to call the day off. Seeing as he was the nearly the only person in the fields, he figured it was probably on time anyway. As he was walking towards the Homestead to wash some of the dirt from his hands and face off, some gladers, who needed his authority, approached him. With one more glance towards the west doors he followed them, grateful to have something to put his mind off the runner.

~*~

It was late. He wasn’t back yet. Newt was starting to get anxious. Minho had appeared from the south doors half an hour ago. His reaction to the slow greenie had not been of any consolation.

“He’s not back yet? That’s odd. The shank’s usually quick to get back here to see a certain someone” he had said and winked though the concern was evident in the otherwise cold Keeper’s eyes. Minho was one of the few who knew about Thomas and Newt – Alby being the second person. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the other gladers, they just didn’t want rumours being spread. They hadn’t exactly told Minho and Alby either – they just sort of figured it out on their own. Minho even stated he had known before them, though Newt failed to see how that was possible.

Newt walked to the west doors, glancing at the watch on his wrist, the valuable minutes passing quicker and quicker.

Eight minutes until the doors shut, and Thomas was still nowhere to be seen. It was an understatement to say Newt was frustrated. He was pacing in front of the opening, never taking his eyes of the corner where he knew the runner would appear, when Minho and Chuck joined him.

“He’s still not back yet?” Minho asked with a worried frown. Newt didn’t bother to answer the obvious question, as he knew his frustration would only lead to him snapping. Chuck was shaking slightly, worried out of his mind for his brother-like friend. Minutes continued to pass too quickly.

“Is he going to make it?” Chuck asked in a weak, shivering voice. No one answered the younger glader, as neither knew the answer. Newt just wished with all of his heart that he would. He had been pacing for quite a while now and his leg started to hurt, but he couldn’t keep still. He was restless, _hated_ that he could do nothing but wait. It was against the rules to go look for him. Even if it was Thomas. Thomas, who would wake him with gentle kisses. Thomas, who would slap his butt with no one noticing in the middle of the Glade, causing Newt to blush furiously. Thomas, who would chase away any fear, any anxiety just by holding his hand. Thomas, who would come running out of the maze with a tired smile and a glint in his eyes. _His_ Tommy, who promised always to return. And now he had broken that promise. A sudden rage rose within him, fuelled by the broken promise and the frustration of not having Thomas _here_ and _safe_. His rage burned out as quickly as it had begun when a sudden breeze made him stop his pace. Chuck and Minho, who had been sitting on the ground trying to calm themselves down, stood up quickly and exchanged a look.

“No” Newt whispered, facing the wind coming from the maze. Just as the wind disappeared a low rumbling pierced the silence. Newt swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill.

“This can’t happen. Not now” Newt coughed out in a hoarse voice. Minho tried to be of comfort by placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off quickly, not wanting to be sympathised with; if they were feeling sorry for him, they were giving up and acknowledging that Thomas was too late, and he didn’t want to do that. He _would_ make it. He promised. However, the doors kept sliding closer to one another and Newt found it more difficult to breathe the closer the two doors got.

“No” Newt choked out, a sob escaping his mouth. Chuck was biting his lip, trying to be strong but it wasn’t long before his barrier would break. Newt’s eyes were watery, and he couldn’t see clearly. He angrily wiped them, telling himself he had to hold on to hope, no matter how hopeless the situation might seemed. Thomas had taught him that. Lost in thought he didn’t register the silhouette until Minho cried out: “There he is!”

Newt snapped his head up squinting his eyes to identify the panting figure. Sure enough, it was Thomas. Chuck and Minho begun cheering for him, trying to give him the motivation to run faster.

“Come on Thomas!”

“You can do it!”

“Run!”

Newt had joined in on the cheering but stopped when he noticed something. Thomas was slowing down. The doors were closing. There was no way he would make it. And Thomas knew it. Their eyes connected and in a brief second Newt saw the apology he couldn’t say out loud. His breathing hitched. He took in the exhausted look on Thomas and realised, even though he had already survived a night in the maze, he had had Minho with him. This time he was alone. Furthermore, he was drained of energy from running the whole day. The chances of surviving were dwindling as Newt took in his appearance. The doors were only a meter from closing. This couldn’t be happening. Taking a deep breath, Newt decided. _I can’t let him stay out there alone_.

He ran forward into the maze.

Or at least he tried to. A hand secured his arm and dragged him backwards. He cast a quick glance backwards to see Minho with a stern expression, but hurried to return his gaze to the brunet, who had now stopped his attempt at reaching the Glade. His eyes shone with gratefulness at Minho and a silent goodbye left his lips just as the doors shut firmly for the night.

“No!” Newt screamed, leaving him breathless as he fell forwards when Minho saw it was safe to let go. He fell onto his knees, resting his head on the unbreakable wall forming the maze that had now trapped the person he couldn’t bear to lose. He clenched his fist and started pounding on the wall, even though he knew how hopeless it was.

“No" he sobbed, his shoulders shaking violently. Luckily, Chuck and Minho knew not to intrude in his emotional state, and they settled on staring at the wall that had just trapped their close friend. Chuck had given up on the tough act and was crying as well. Minho, more used to concealing his feelings, had watery eyes and a lump in his throat, but he refused to give in to the tears, knowing the others needed an anchor. All of them tried to deny the fact that was now inevitable.

Thomas was stuck in the maze.


	2. A flicker of hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt battles loneliness but desperately tries to hold on to hope while Thomas fights for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback! It really is a great motivation having people like my writing :-)  
> This was written a bit hastily, as I wanted to post this as soon as possible, so I apologise for any mistakes (since I'm going on holiday tomorrow, and am not sure whether there will be Internet or not...)  
> Anyhow, as always, feedback is very welcome! :-)  
> Thank you for reading! xoxo

He stared with defeat at the wall that had minutes before been two doors. Thomas was breathing heavily, leaning his head against the maze as he tried to figure out what to do. It wouldn’t be long before the Grievers could be heard and would come looking for him, but he couldn’t shake the image of Newt’s defeated eyes out of his mind. The idiot – his idiot – had tried to run forward, just like he had so foolishly done the first time he got stuck in the maze. Luckily, Minho had seen sense and had stopped him from a dreadful destiny. Though he couldn’t help but slightly wish the blond were there with him. Thomas wasn’t sure he could survive this time; he was exhausted and could barely catch his breath. He sighed, realising he might have seen Newt for the last time. And what memory had he given him? He had broken his promise and left him in the Glade alone. He ran a hair through his hair, trying to comprehend the loneliness and the guilt at what Newt must be feeling.

He was mercilessly dragged back to reality as a screech sounded.

~*~

Newt hadn’t moved out of his spot since the doors had sealed his better half’s fate. Alby had eventually noticed the four’s absence and had noticed the three of them standing at the doors. However, when he saw the dead look on Newt’s face he put two and two together. He and Minho had managed to persuade Chuck into getting something to eat, but after hesitantly trying the same to Newt and him refusing to answer, they had left him by the doors. He knew they were worried sick about him, but he couldn’t find himself to care. The only thing he cared about was out in the maze on his own, probably also worried about him because the brunet was such a selfless bastard. He had stopped crying a while ago and was left with a hollow void where his heart used to be, and just settled on staring at the grey material as though he could will it to open. His otherwise rational mind had burned down to nothing when it came to Thomas. He found himself not caring about the rules, which both he and Alby had fought so hard to establish and maintain, when it concerned the greenie. Hell, he had been ready to throw it all away the second he realised Thomas wouldn’t make it, and he would have done it, had Minho not held him back. Thinking more clearly, it was probably for the better he hadn’t joined Thomas in the maze. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, and certainly not with as much stamina as Thomas, even if he had spent the whole day running. He would probably be more of a burden than a help.

Sadness washed over him, pushing the emptiness away when he thought of how alone Thomas must be feeling. It was soon replaced by anger. Anger at Thomas for being late. Anger at Minho for letting him run on his own. But most of all, anger at himself for not being able to do _anything_ while Thomas was out there right now, fighting for his life, and he was here selfishly pouting over his own abandoning. He closed his eyes and pictured this morning: Thomas’ tired eyes looking into his own, the captivating, deep brown that always seemed to comfort him even in his darkest times. The strong arms around his waist, embracing him and holding him close as though they were the only two in the world. The soft lips touching his own in a tender, sweet kiss. When tears threatened to spill again, Newt took a deep breath and stood up.

Thomas was out there. He wouldn't be of any help exhausting himself by waiting for the doors to open if - _when_ \- Thomas came back. He would keep his promise. He would return to Newt. Wouldn't he?

~*~

Thomas was breathing heavily, running as fast as he could through the vine-covered passage in the maze. Behind him, a shrill cry sounded, urging him to run faster, _faster, **faster**_. He had to keep going – for Newt. Even though his legs shook with exhaustion and strain, the memory of his blond partner filled him with the vital motivation to keep going. He tried to lead his thoughts away from the maze and its deadly components and think of the brown-eyed glader he had come to care so unbelievably much about. It was frightening how quickly he had developed feelings for the perfectly imperfect person the others knew as the strict yet caring co-commander. It hadn’t been love at first sight – Thomas didn’t believe in such things – but he had been weirdly drawn to the young man from the moment he met him. It had started out as admiration for the slightly taller boy but at some point, Thomas wasn’t sure when, he had started to notice the small things: How Newt would smile more frequently, at him of all people. How his eyes would spark whenever they were together. How kissable his lips looked. How he sometimes would get a faraway look that hurt Thomas deeply and made him want to tear whatever was bothering the silent boy apart.

It was stupid, really. They hadn’t even known each other for that long, but somehow they were a perfect match. After surviving the maze for the first time, he had realised just how deep his feelings were for Newt. Luckily, it had seemed the other felt the same way. He would sometimes feel guilty for wanting him all to himself, when he occasionally stole Newt away from whoever was complaining, with the excuse of an emergency. Of course, the only emergency was that Thomas couldn’t stand being away from him too long, especially when he used the most of his time in the maze. It was really just an excuse to lure Newt into the forest to their tree where they would spent as much time as they could, just the two of them, without raising suspicion.

Thomas’ heart ached when he realised Newt would have to sleep alone in his cold bed. For some reason, Newt had this tendency to be cold; his hands were cold, his feet were cold, even his nose was cold, and so was his bed. Thomas being the opposite, radiating warmth, had quickly become the other’s private heater. It was an excuse for Newt to grab his hand and cuddle closely at night. If Thomas wasn’t there, Newt would have nothing to warm his bed. _And if I don’t run faster,_ he thought, _It’ll forever be cold._

He rounded a corner, breathing heavily hoping to lose the Griever by turning often. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work. The Griever behind him was quicker and more used to the layout of the maze. He was in their territory and at their mercy. However, Grievers were infamous for their mercilessness. It was catching up on him. He couldn’t keep going much further. Just as he turned a corner, he nearly fell over his own feet when making an abrupt halt. There in front of him, stood another Griever, just as vicious and cruel-looking as the one tracing his footsteps. He heard the metallic clicks that indicated the other inhumane creature had arrived. A revolting sound gave him shivers as the thick saliva fell from the beasts’ mouths. This was it. He was trapped. There was no way out of this situation, even if he hadn’t been drained of energy. Even with the world against him, he would try. He would never give up. Even if the possibility of surviving were none existent, he would still try. He had to. For Newt. He had promised. So even as the Grievers pulled out their scorpion-like tail with the venom in it, Thomas prepared to fight till the end. Just as he jumped forward, hoping to dodge the mechanic, stinging extension, he felt a sharp pain in his back and could sense the burning sensation spreading through his veins like a wildfire before the world turned black.

~*~

Despite Newt’s optimistic intensions, he hadn’t been able to maintain the façade. His own arguments for Thomas surviving the maze had dwindled just as his trust in the brunet’s abilities to stay alive. It wasn’t long before he excused himself to bed, not wanting to be near anyone, not even Alby or Minho, when he broke down. He endlessly debated himself; the one side of him telling him to _get yourself together_ and _trust Thomas_ , and the other wishing for _his Tommy_ to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be alright – he always did. For now, the other side had taken over, filling him with incomprehensibly strong emotions of longing, sorrow and isolation. It felt as though his heart had been violently ripped out and that he was bleeding with no one caring to stitch him up, not even himself. He didn’t _want_ to get over it. He didn’t _want_ to forget about him, even though it would probably save his sanity. Thomas was his light, his warmth, his everything. Without him, the world was a cold, cynical, empty, meaningless place. Before he had survived. With Tommy, he _lived_. With him gone, he would become a hollow shell, insensitive and unconcerned.

That dreadful night, his bed was colder than ever before. He didn’t get a wink of sleep.

The next morning, he was sitting in front of the west doors long before the sun rose. With his inability to sleep, he figured he might as well be waiting somewhere else. Because that’s what he was doing: waiting. Even though his thoughts were filled with countless voices scolding him and trying to convince him that Thomas had no chance of surviving out there, the little flame of hope that Thomas had managed to light in him was enough reason to get him out of his icy room. Later, Minho and Chuck silently joined him, their faces evidently showing the hope that Thomas had managed to create within them too. Newt nearly smiled to himself, acknowledging the change his brunet had brought with his curious attitude; he had sparked hope in the Glade in an amount that had never been dreamed of before, and had given them all courage to be curious and stubborn in their pursuit to finding a way out.

His thoughts were violently interrupted by a rumbling sound: the doors were opening. So quickly, that he nearly fell from dizziness, he stood up, his heartrate increasing rapidly. Behind him he could sense the other two’s presence but he focused on the small gap that was gradually becoming wider by the second. When the mechanisms ended with a last click, Newt was staring down the corridor to the now open maze. The empty corridor. He held his breath, refusing to let go of the hope Thomas had so easily created within him, when no one else could, remembering the first time, when they had appeared just a little while after. He held his breath as he waited for any sign of recognisable shape.

For how long they stood there gazing into the empty maze, Newt wasn’t sure. By the time Minho put a hand on his shoulder, muttering a quiet apology, the Glade had begun to stream with life. He saw Minho running into the empty maze. But other than him, that was how it remained: empty. He had not returned. He had not survived.

Inside of Newt, a light burned out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains spoilers for the series, so if you haven't read the books or are not aware of the story of Newt's limp, I suggest not reading this. Unless you're a careless badass, then go ahead uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who's reading, commenting whatever you're doing I LOVE YOU :-)  
> It really means a lot that you guys like my work uwu  
> And yessss, I have Internet, so I'll try to escape the family holiday once in a while to write chapters for you guys c:  
> Probably won't be able to update everyday, but I'll do my best!  
> As always, feedback is very much appreciated and welcome! xoxo

Darkness. A shallow memory of a once joyous time. That was how Newt was left. He felt stupid. Stupid for ever believing that this world was worth living in. He had realised it before, nearly succeeding in leaving this world. However, his attempt had resulted in a permanent injury, a reminder of how low he had been feeling. That time Alby had helped him regain his will, but this time he knew it wouldn't be enough. It would take infinite time and an impossibly strong-willed personality, which he didn't posses, to put himself together after this immense loss.

The doors had closed for the night, once again separating Newt and Thomas, dead or alive. Newt had spent the whole day in the woods by the too recognisable tree, not talking to anyone or letting them sympathise with him. The other gladers quickly learned what had happened and a heavy atmosphere haunted the Glade. Even Gally was quiter than usual, which said something about the situation. It was clear, Thomas had made his mark and set an impression on even the most traditional gladers.

Newt tugged at his shirt feeling the coldness of the night seeping through him. He didn't want to go to the Homestead and be met with sympathetic glances or demands of explanations. Even though the gladers were oblivious to his and Thomas’ intimate relationship, anyone could tell they were close. He shifted on the hard ground, figuring it was equally cold as his bed. He closed his eyes, trying to shut the sound of the maze changing out and pushing the thought of a brown-haired runner away.

His sleep was full of disturbances and resulted in him staring into nothingness until long into the day. He knew people were wondering where their second in command was, and that he was needed in the garden, but he couldn't find the motivation to care. It seemed Alby had covered for him, since no one came looking for him, and he wanted to feel grateful but his empty heart wouldn't allow it.

It was nearly evening when someone eventually dared approaching him.

“Newt,” someone said, sounding out of breath. Recognising the voice, he merely hummed a response at the Keeper of the runners.

“Have you seen Chuck?” This made him raise his head from the dirt and look at Minho, who furrowed his brow at the other’s horrible appearance. He opened his mouth, probably to scold the blond for not taking care of himself, but Newt interrupted him.

“What do you mean?”

~*~

“Th-Thomas?” Chuck whispered hesitantly, taking slow steps on the grey floor. He looked down the corridor to his right covered in vines and darkness.

“Thomas?” He called with more determination. He was in the maze. Oh god, he was in the maze! The concept made his breath hitch and his legs shake, but still he continued to move forward and call his friend’s name. He hadn't expected to come out here; after all, his bravery was nearly non-existent and he usually respected the rules, frightened of the outcome if he didn't. However, when Thomas hadn't returned after two days in the maze, Chuck knew something was wrong. He must have gotten lost or injured on his way back and incapable of returning on his own – there was no way, he was dead as everyone else seemed to be wrongly assuming. Seeing as Newt was nowhere to be found, and Minho didn't bother discussing looking for the greenie, Chuck had taken it upon himself to look for him. Even if that meant breaking the rules. His loyalty to Thomas was more important than his loyalty to the Glade, and he would follow him anywhere. Even in a place where he was likely to get lost and Grievers were roaming.

Trying to keep his thoughts off mechanic monsters and potential deaths, he called out louder than before.

~*~

“Thomas? Thomas! I know you're out there – come out! Thomas?”

His head was spinning and his back was on fire, but somehow he managed to register the small, insecure voice calling for him. He opened his eyes to meet dull grey and screaming green; he was lying on his stomach somewhere in the maze near some vines. When he tried to turn his head to get a better look at his surroundings, he coughed, spreading pain through his weak body. He clenched his teeth and forced himself with the tiny bit of strength he had left to sit in an upright position. His whole body shook with the strain, and he ended up falling face first into the same position now with a nosebleed. He tried remembering the events up until that point, tracing his every move to see if he could figure out where he was. However, he had no luck in recalling last night, his memories filled with the agony of being stung.

_Stung. I was stung._ The memory of Ben with red eyes and throbbing veins nauseated him, and he swallowed the vile making its way up his throat. The sour liquid upset his stomach and he realised he hadn't eaten since two days ago. His mouth was dry, his eyes unfocused. Would be become like Ben? It all seemed unrealistic seeing as he had no energy to move. What then? Would he lie here until he stared to death? Or would the Grievers end his life before then?

Suddenly, he became aware of the shouts now getting closer. He could hear the person’s footsteps and the voice was clearer now. Even in his hazed state, he recognised the voice. If only he could gain strength to call out to him…

He took a deep breath, focusing everything on his voice. He opened his mouth and tried with all his might to utter a word.

~*~

“Chuck!”

The call made said boy freeze. Hesitantly, he turned towards the source of the voice.

“Minho” he stated shyly, guiltily turning his gaze towards his feet.

“What the shuck are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you! Do you know how worried we’ve been? Get over here, quickly! We’re going to run, or else _we’ll_ be the ones stuck out here, got it?” Minho ranted with a harsh authority; he didn’t underestimate matters in the maze.

“But Thomas –“

“Listen,” Minho interrupted, walking closer to the smaller boy and putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Listen,” he repeated his voice softer, “Thomas is gone. The shank’s been out here two days now; there’s no way he has survived – even if he is Thomas. So come on, let’s get going. Thomas wouldn’t want us to get trapped looking for him.”

Chuck nodded slightly, quickly wiping a stray tear and followed Minho. He looked back once, thinking for a moment he saw movement in the vines close to the wall, but shrugged it off, knowing he’d only be disappointed if he looked. There was no use getting his hopes up. Thomas was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter! c:  
> Don't know how often I'll be able to update since school's starting tomorrow, but I'll do my best!  
> Thank you once again for every comment, kudo and view! It warms my heart c:  
> As usual, feel free to leave a comment! xoxo

When Chuck and Minho returned from the maze, Newt and Alby were waiting for them at the entrance. Even though the look on Newt’s face would make even Grievers run as far away as possible, Chuck obediently followed Minho into the Glade. The first thing he registered was the warmth. After that the stinging begun. His eyes widened in shock and his hand instinctively went to cover his throbbing cheek. He turned his head towards the blonde with a quizzical expression, trying to supress the tears pressing on. Newt merely stared him down, refusing any emotion to show.

“Go to the Slammer. I’ll let you out in a couple of days – if I think you’ve learned your lesson” he spoke with a monotone, impassive voice, so unlike the bright, spirited glader he had known as his friend. The young boy looked to their leader for answers, but the dark-skinned young man avoided his eyes and instead motioned for Minho to come with him. Chuck was stunned at the other’s seemingly blindness to the bitter, heartless commander standing amongst them in the shape of Newt.

“Newt, why are you –“ he tried confronting the older person, but was quickly cut off by a piercing stare from said person.

“Do as I tell you, and be glad I’m not increasing your stay for disobedience”

Chuck flinched at the harsh tone and noticed the other two did as well, proving they too had noticed the severe transformation in their friend’s personality. However, they made no effort to stop the blonde as he led the smaller curly-haired brunet to the Slammer.

When they were out of eyesight, Minho turned expectantly to Alby. With a raised brow, he didn’t need to voice his question. The leader merely shook his head in submission.

“I don’t know. He’s been like that ever since you went looking for Chuck; the loss of Thomas has ruined him. I don’t know how long it’ll last – if he’ll ever be okay” Alby told, his voice quiet.

“Hopefully he will – for all of our sakes” Minho replied, unknowingly voicing the omen about to come true.

~*~

After Chuck’s imprisonment, the atmosphere in the Glade fell record low, the tension thick and the air suffocating. It hadn’t taken long for the other gladers to learn it was better to stay out of Newt’s sight. The change in the co-leader’s attitude poisoned the otherwise peaceful atmosphere, his presence being the glueing component in their inarguably dependent society. When the doors had closed that night, it had sealed the loss of both Thomas and Newt.

~*~

The youngest glader stared out the bars of his temporary cage, submissively staring into the night. He didn’t feel anger at being placed there. Actually, he was grateful for not having to retreat to his hammock with no smart-mouthed brunet next to him. The thought of their usual evening talks caused tears to fill in his eyes, but this time he made no attempt to stop them. The other gladers could make fun of him for all he cared; he just wanted his best friend back.

The stubborn runner had been the only one to take Chuck seriously. The others regarded him as a child and treated him as such. True, he might be the youngest of them but age couldn’t be considered a valuable factor in determining intelligence. The insecure boy he was weeks ago, before Thomas appeared, would have done anything in order to gain the others’ acknowledgement. But then, the greenie had brought hope, and with that hope, the confidence to believe in himself and not let anyone get to him. Thomas had been the idolised figure in his life, giving him courage and meaning in the otherwise hopelessly trapped world they lived in. And even when he had failed to stand up for himself, his façade crumbling and his inner child surfacing, Thomas hadn’t laughed or labelled him as useless; he had comforted him and protected him like a true friend would – at least that’s what his otherwise memory-lacked brain told him.

His heart ached incomprehensibly much. He wondered if the pain would ever go away completely. Somehow, he knew the memory of Thomas would always haunt him; and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to forget the one person who didn’t give up on him. That’s why he hadn’t given up on hope either. At least until he had searched with his own eyes but finally, and tormentingly so, had realised it was foolish to hope.

Yet he remained a fool.

~*~

He could feel vibrations in the ground indicating the maze was changing. He was still in the same spot he had been when Chuck – the innocent, goodhearted _idiot_ – had stood only a few metres from him. However, he had managed, hurtfully so, to get himself in a sitting position, though still completely hidden under the vines and leaning against the wall. He was breathing heavily from the pain still scourging his weakened body. According to the thoughtless act from Chuck, who usually despised being anywhere _near_ the walls, it must’ve been at least a couple of days since he was trapped in the maze. He wondered how he was still alive and able to think straight, when he had clearly been stung the first night, considering how Ben had quickly become clouded-minded and relatively indecipherable. How many more days would it take for him to reach the brink of insanity?

Sadness overwhelmed him as he thought of how Newt – beautiful, wonderful Newt – would have to live with the draining memory of not knowing what had happened to him. He probably believed he was dead. And understandably so; he even _felt_ dead. Felt its greedy grip clawing at his insides, taunting him, coaxing him to give in. When a shriek bounced off the walls of the maze, he thought for a mere second – a selfish, horrible second – that he really was better off dead. Guilt consumed him, and he closed his eyes to think of possible ways to get out of there alive. He was, after all, still alive. How come the Grievers hadn’t ended him, when he was obviously incapable of defending himself? Perhaps the vines where hiding him better than he thought. Even if they did, the beetle blades’ red light was still visible occasionally, so the Grievers couldn’t be completely oblivious to his whereabouts. His thoughts were proven right when metallic clinks made their way towards his location. He hastily scrutinised his hideout, pleading for there to be something he could use as weapon. To his luck, there was nothing but vines. The sounds stopped right in front of him, and he could see the metal legs only a few centimetres from his own.

He held his breath. Then, a familiar sound he couldn’t quite remember and the Griever took a step back. For a second he dared to hope it was leaving. It took another step back.

Then, pain.

He clutched his stomach where the Griever’s tail stuck out and tried focusing on breathing. It took a while before the robotic animal withdrew its fatal weapon and then continued its way through the maze as though it was an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was? Was that why he was still alive?

Thomas didn’t have the energy to wrap his head around the abnormal event. He found himself slowly falling in to the abyss of darkness. For the third night in a row, Thomas fell unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!   
> Unfortunately, I had no time reading this chapter through as I wanted to post it quickly, so I apologise for the mistakes that are bound to be there!  
> You guys are amazing and do not deserve all this angst (and yet here it is... my guilty pleasure. whoops)  
> I really liked writing this, so I hope you enjoy as well!   
> xoxo

Darkness. Numbness dominating his body, leaving only his brain to be overrun by emotions. Loneliness was gripping at his insides, tearing whatever little piece of him was left. Easy to say, Newt was having a hard time getting out of bed. Or rather, off the floor in his room. He hadn’t slept in his own bed ever since he was greeted with the cold sheets, missing the radiating body warmth of Tom –

No. No one. Newt shook his head as he stared at the ceiling, wishing his thoughts would for _once_ leave him alone. It only made everything worse to think about it. He couldn’t. Or he’d miss it too much. He couldn’t think about the drowsy, enchanting, brown eyes he should be looking at this time of the day. He couldn’t bear to think about the long, black eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as they should be. He certainly couldn’t think about the large, calloused hand caressing his own. And he absolutely could not think of the adorning moles covering his face, his beautiful neck, down his torso and further on that tight –

Stop it, _stop it, **stop it**_. Newt grabbed his head in agony, desperately banging his head against the wall to rid of the disturbing thoughts that caused nothing but despair to flare up in him. When he finally felt emotions taking over, it would always be the negative, destructive ones that he’d rather be without; in fact, he’d rather just not be. Vaguely aware of the wetness of his eyes, he crumbled in on himself, cradling his head in his hands and rocked back and forth unsure of how to survive the eroding thoughts that tore his mind apart. The silence was deafening. How could silence be this loud? No adorable laugh, no annoying yet wonderfully curious questions, no sleep deprived husky voice from staying up all night. The bangs caused by his head banging got louder, but still failed to drown the voices in his head. In his absentmindedness, he didn’t hear the door to his room being opened forcefully, and only noticed the other presence when he was shaken violently and broken out of his trance.

Being brought back to the world, he registered the strong arms embracing him and the soft voice comforting him. His walls broke, and he felt incapable of stopping the tears spilling from his eyes. He gripped the shirt of the person and sobbed carelessly finally submitting to his intensely disturbing thoughts. In the moment he selfishly imagined his friend holding him as Thomas – his Tommy – even if it only caused more tears to leak.

~*~

Alby had been looking for his right hand, finding it immensely worrying that he hadn’t shown up yet; Newt was always the first up, his insomnia being the cause. However, after the greenie started spending the nights, he had gotten a healthier sleep schedule, even though he knew, by the red eyes of both young boys, that he still had a few bad nights, it was nowhere near the extreme it used to be. After Thomas’ disappearing, as he referred to it as to not pour salt in the wound, the insomnia had gotten intensely worse and he found himself preparing to catch the blonde, as he was bound to fall unconscious at some point.

He had only gotten through the entrance to the Homestead, when he had registered the loud thumps sounding from upstairs. Fearing the worst with knowledge of Newt’s past, he had jumped up the stairs three at a time and bolted through the door to find the otherwise strong co-leader in an alarming position that radiated the broken-heartedness of the poor boy. So of course he did the first thing that came in to mind, not thinking twice of the possible reactions: he reached out to him, and comforted him as was his duty, that he would gladly do, as his friend. He was understandably aware of the whimpers and the only name crossing the broken boy’s lips, but would deny it if anyone were to ask.

They sat there until Newt was drained of energy and exhaustion swept in to claim him in a deep sleep. As much as the dark-skinned boy wanted to stay and assure the blond boy when he awoke, he had duties to fulfil, and even more so when he had to take care of the responsibilities of both of them.

~*~

When Newt finally woke he was undoubtedly aware of the dried tears on his face. His head throbbed from the exhaustion, but his heart felt a great relief by finally letting it all go. It had felt good to open up to his feelings, even though he was still haunted by the devastated and bitter ones. He sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wall, but winced as soon as he did, recalling him banging it clearing in his mind. R.egretfully, he rubbed at the tender spot, feeling a slight bump forming. He soon heard footsteps that stopped in front of his door. Not bothering to knock, Newt knew instantly who had arrived before the door opened. Alby walked in carrying a plate and a mug. Seeing the hesitantly, slightly smiling boy, he cracked an assuring smile of his own.

“Thought you’d want to grab a bite, considering you skipped breakfast and slept through lunch” He handed the things and settled himself next to his friend. Newt gratefully accepted them and slowly sipped some of the water and took an uncertain bite of some of the bread. He looked guiltily at the floor, fully aware that he had not done his part for the day, and that Alby had to take double the load as usual.

“Look,” Alby began, causing Newt to sneak a peek at his friend. “I know you’re basically feeling like shit right now – which is understandable and totally acceptable. But what you did to Chuck –“ he stopped midsentence, looking at Newt expectantly. He didn’t need to voice the rest, Newt understood the meaning completely. He returned his shameful gaze to the ground, knowing he had been rough on the smaller boy who only wished to help and find his best friend.

“I’m just saying – you should talk to him. Maybe it’d be a help to both of you” he knew he was taking a risk, not completely sure if the blonde was still in denial of help, but he knew he would be ready at some point, and he wanted to assure him that he wasn’t alone. Luckily, Newt nodded. Alby gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder and stood up.

“I’m going to help wrap up the day. See you guys at dinner then.” Newt continued to sit in the room until Alby’s footsteps were completely out of hearing range. Once they were, he took a deep breath to gather his raging emotions and started making his ways to the Slammer.

At first, the curly-haired boy was nowhere in sight when Newt arrived. However, by the sound of his footsteps a small ball of hair appeared. The boy wasn’t tall enough to look out of the bars but once Newt got close enough, he saw the recognition in his eyes. In those eyes, he saw a reflection of his own feelings: sadness, betrayal, hurt. Incomprehension as though it was all a bad nightmare, soon they would wake up, and Thomas would be there and everything would be alright. The feeling of foolishness by thinking such thoughts. And then the childish hope that it were true. He had been there. He was still there. However, Alby had helped him see truth. And now it was his turn to help.

“Hi Chuck” he said calmly, guilt hitting him like a wave. The boy muttered a soft response, and Newt was surprised not to find any resentment thrown at him. After all, he deserved it.

“How about we get you out of here and go find some dinner, yeah?” he said after a while of awkward silence. He had no idea how to apologise and this was as close as he got without the risk of tearing up. Chuck seemed to think in the same lines as he nodded and offered a small smile. Newt returned it, and though both knew they were fake, they shared the same hope of it being real someday. Of everything to be right again.

They walked side by side to the kitchen with a silent agreement of forgiveness.

~*~

Thomas sat in his usual position waiting for the doors to close, indicating the beginning of the Grievers’ visits. His pale face was damp with glistening sweat of tension, and he had to force his eyelids not to drop, forcing his body into unconsciousness. He was fighting the unrelenting toxin in his veins, slowly erasing every bit of sanity left in his shattered body. Still he remained faithful in one thought: Newt. The only light in his otherwise darkened world shone brighter than anything else, and his trust in the memory of his loved one kept his spirits up even when the whole world was against him.

The rustling sounds of moving metal stirred him out of his head. Clanks sounded throughout the maze, thuds that would’ve left him dumbstruck only a few days ago. He refused to give in to the temptation to be afraid. He would _not_ let them strike him again. This time, he would fight and tonight was the night. This was the moment of truth.

When the legs of a Griever appeared in his line of vision, he clenched the pointy item in his hand. The day earlier, he had succeeded in stealing the valuable part of the Griever’s tail, and now it was his only hope of getting out of there alive. _If_ the runners would find him. _If_ the antidote would work after god knows how many stings. _If_ Newt could find it in his heart to ever forgive him. Trying not to think of the possible raging fits the blonde could throw at him, he focused on the stilling Griever preparing to strike. He only got one chance at this. If he failed, he would not have the strength to defend himself. And surely, he wouldn’t be able to gather this much focus again. He could still feel the eating toxic trying to consume all of his good memories, leaving nothing but darkness and anger.

The Griever took a step back and stretched its tail. He aimed for the animal parts of the creature. With a desperate cry, he threw the dagger-like end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another cliffhanger   
> *imsorryplsdontkillme*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update!  
> Sorry if this is confusing or badly written, it has been a rather exhausting week with a school festival that craved my attention *ugh*  
> But here it is! I wanted to post it quickly, 'cause you guys are the best!  
> I hope you enjoy this quickly written chapter, even if it may be sloppy in some parts x:  
> As usual, feedback is warmly welcome! xoxo

He hadn’t noticed at first glance, but on his second tour, he had leaned against the fake ivy wall, revealing a new potential hiding spot for Thomas. Now the Keeper was walking through a hidden corridor he had never noticed before in hope of finding his lost friend. Though he knew the horrors of the maze and the unlikeliness of finding the greenie alive, he still bore a foolish hope, that he suspected had originated from said person…

It had all started when one of the Runners had returned from the Maze breathing heavily. His state wasn’t what was surprising – they were all exhausted after their usual routine in the Maze, no matter how good their shape was – it was the satchel clutched in his hand that caught the Keeper’s immediate attention: Thomas’. Though this might not be a surprising found that could just as well indicate his death, none of them had found any trace of the brunet after his disappearing, so even if it was due to lack of attention or sheer luck, he wanted to at least check the area out. He shared his second-in-command’s frustration by not knowing what had happened to their dear friend, so of course he had headed of immediately, barely remembering to warn the Runner of not informing anyone of his mission; he didn’t want to give anyone false hope – he wasn’t sure if Newt could handle being disappointed when he showed up empty-handed. _If_ , he corrected himself.

Walking this time – to not miss any details – he scrutinised the wall, unsure if yet another hidden path would show leading the way to Thomas. He had just turned a corner when he spotted it. A Griever. Fear struck him and he practically jumped behind the wall. He quietly wondered if the Griever could hear his heavily panicked breaths and he calmly collected himself, trying to steady his breath. Holding his breath, he listened closely, his ears peaked and ready to register any sound that may indicate the Griever had noticed him. However, no evidence of it being so came. Actually, it was strangely quiet, considering the creature had monstrous metal legs that echoed throughout the Maze whenever they took a step. Slowly peeping around the corner, his feet ready to bounce the opposite direction if needed, he tried to get a better look on the silent Griever. It was lying on the ground in the exact position it had been in when he had first seen it. Bravely holding his gaze, he discovered the Griever wasn’t moving. He took a hesitant step around the corner, his heart beating loudly in his chest. When the Griever didn’t even stir, he could only draw one conclusion. It was dead. But how could a Griever lie in the middle of nowhere, dead? What happened to it? It took a moment, but in the end Minho found a solid answer.

He was the only one who’d ever killed a griever. This could only be his doing. _How_ he had done it, he had no clue, but he supposed he could ask the shank when he finally found him. No more doubts. If Thomas had the strength to kill a Griever, surely he was still alive. As he looked around the corridor for clues, he found nothing but ivy-covered walls. On his way further down the corridor, he stopped momentarily by the Griever. He was curious, to say the least. Examining the horrid creature, he found Thomas had used its own weapon against it. The tail of a Griever stuck out of its rotten face. However, when he turned around the Griever, he noticed its tail was intact. The Keeper furrowed his brow over the newfound detail. This indicated that Thomas had not only run into one, but two Grievers at least. But what had happened to the second Griever? And where was Thomas? He was about to run further down the corridor when he noticed the vines curving unnaturally at the bottom. Aware of the missing Griever, he took a step back before carefully lifting the ends, ready to run at first sign of danger. What he found, made him do the exact opposite.

A pair of running shoes.

~*~

Newt was walking next to Alby, trying to convince him to let him do his job. After four days of mourning and shutting everyone out, he decided he ought to do his share. However, Alby hadn’t let him out of his sight after last night. Though he felt slightly annoyed at the other’s seemingly determined opinion of him not being able to take care of himself, he also felt grateful for not being left with the loneliness clouding his heart. They were just on their way to the kitchen, when they spotted Minho running through the gates. At first glance all he assumed was that the Runner had just returned from his usual duties, but in the corner of his eyes, he saw his broad arms carrying a larger figure. Returning his gaze to the, he now realised, heavily exhausted Runner, his breath hitched when his eyes fell on the slumped figure in his arms. Stubbornly, he tried to convince himself he couldn’t be right, but nothing stopped him from recognising the all too familiar person.

“Tommy?”, he whispered, stopping dead in his tracks and causing Alby to do so too. He followed the Keeper of the Gardens’ gaze and froze in place, when he realised the same.

“Thomas!” Newt desperately tried to run to the slumped Runner, but was stopped by two arms securing him. Looking back, Alby’s stern look did nothing to dimmer his resolution.

“Alby, what’re you doing? Let me go! _Let me go!_ ” he yelled, thrashing, pushing, kicking, doing practically anything to get out of the other’s grip. His eyes returned to the Runner, seeing he had now collapsed from the strain of running with an unconscious body in his arms. Gladers were rushing forwards to help the two of them, but Alby remained stoic in his hold, not bothering to answer the other.

“Alby. _Alby!_ You’ve got to let me go! I have to see him! I _need_ to see him!” Newt frantically begged, not daring to take his eyes off the body he recognised achingly much. The med-jacks were pulling the slumped form on a stretcher, hurrying away from the rest of the gladers towards the Homestead. The sight made Newt swallow vile building up his constricting throat, and he once again tried to get out of the grip.

“Alby!” frustrated at the other’s seemingly lack of response, he turned around briskly since Thomas was already inside the Homestead, and he should be next to him. Finally meeting the taller boy’s gaze, he flinched at the harshness in them.

“Alby?” his name came out quizzically, as the emotions showing in his eyes were questionably proper for the situation. Why would Alby not let him see Thomas? When Newt focused his gaze, he finally calmed down enough to let the leader talk.

“We’ve all seen what happened to you when you lost him. I won’t risk doing it all over again.” At Newt’s confused glare, his eyes softened but his tone held the same authority and austerity.

“Newt, do you really think after four days in the Maze, that he’s perfectly fine? You saw he was unconscious, and still is. There’s obviously something wrong. I’m just telling you, not to get your hopes too high. It won’t end well.” Alby held his gaze stubbornly, but so did Newt.

“I _need_ to be there with him” he stated simply, not breaking eye contact. Right now, he didn’t care if he would get his hopes up just to be crushed. He didn’t care that there were other responsibilities he ought to attend. All he cared about, was Thomas. He was alive. Newt blinked. He was, wasn’t he? Sudden uncertainty swelled in his heart captivating his thoughts. Minho wouldn’t have brought him back if he was gone, would he? He would only do it if he meant they could heal him… right? Though the uneasy thoughts squeezed their way into his notice, he was still as stubborn in his pursuit in getting to Thomas as quickly as possible.

Alby had noticed the waver in his friend’s eyes, but even so let him go. After all, he wasn’t the person to force him into anything, as Newt was not one to be told what to do. So he let him go. And just as he had, Newt sprinted off in the direction of the Homestead, pushing through the surrounding crowd that wanted to know what had happened.

And Alby was left to wonder, whether it was a wise choice Minho had made.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand another chapter!  
> I loved writing this, so I really hope you enjoy! :-)  
> Not sure how many more chapters to go, but I'm guessing about 3ish? We'll see c:  
> Comments are highly appreciated! xoxo

Newt ran up the stars three at a time ignoring the sharp pain developing in his leg. He stopped at the door leading into the med-jacks room, catching his breath. Panic swelled through his heart; what if Alby was right? What if Thomas was already… dead? The thought gave a shiver down his spine, a throbbing headache forming. His eyes began stinging, and he angrily rubbed at them. _No, don’t. Don’t think that. Thomas is_ here _. No matter what, I have to be there. I have to see for myself._

Taking a deep breath, he curled his fingers around the doorknob, not bothering to knock before walking in there. What he saw, made him take a step back, wanting to erase the sight and pretend it had never occurred.

Thomas was lying on a bed, his face pale and moist with sweat. His eyes were shut, but his brows were furrowed, his facial expression laced with pain. His cheeks were hollow and the arm falling out of the duvet covering him was too thin for his usual muscular form. A lump formed in Newt’s throat as he took the appearance of him in. He slowly made his way towards his other half. It was only when he stood right next to him, that Clint and Jeff realised he was there. They had been all too preoccupied with taking tests and sticking various cannulas into his dangerously thin arm.

“Newt,” one of them, Newt couldn’t focus enough to hear who, called out, but whatever he had been about to say was silenced by the horrified look on his face. The two med-jacks shared a look conversing silently before shifting their gaze on to Newt.

“He’s severely dehydrated. He hasn’t eaten anything after being caught in the maze either. It was lucky Minho found him when he did; or else it would’ve been too late.” Newt flinched at the _too late_ , imagining what could’ve happened, causing the med-jacks to quickly explain further.

“Other than that he –“ the two shared a look, pausing. When no further explanation came, Newt was forced to voice the inevitable question, but kept his gaze on the frail figure.

“What's wrong with him?” he whispered, his voice hoarse from all the tears he tried to keep inside of him. Clint or Jeff – or maybe both of them – released a yielding sigh.

“He’s been stung.” The words struck Newt like a blow to his stomach, his breath hitching and the betraying tears falling steadily. He bowed his head slightly to avoid the other seeing his defenceless state, but if they had noticed, they were mercifully pretending not to.

“Several times, actually. We don’t know how he held this long. It might be the continuous injection. The wound is a couple of days old, so I assume he was stung sometime during the first night. After that he has been repeatedly stung every night. He’s unconscious and won’t respond to anything. We’ve given him the antidote and a sedate to ease his pain, but I’m not sure it’ll work so long after the venom has been injected. We can only hope.” After that, both med-jacks walked outside, sensing the co-commander needed some time alone to grasp what had been said. If they noticed the broken look in the blonde’s eyes, they didn’t mention it.

Newt was locked in the same position next to Thomas not able to even reach out to the other. _Alby was right_. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the warm liquid spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly extremely grateful for being alone in the room, he sobbed, his breath hitching. His already broken heart was torn, shredded, destroyed by watching the abnormally pale brunet. With his mind driving him nauseous, he fell to his knees next to the bed. He let his head fall lazily next to the other’s, letting the sheets silence his violent sobs. When his head throbbed from exhaustion, his eyes dry from tears, he finally found the courage to turn his head and look at Thomas’ face inches from his own. His gaze was broken but filled with the love they had shared so strongly and stubbornly. He gave a hoarse laugh at the memory of how it all began.

~*~

He had just made sure Alby was in safe hands, and Minho was resting, when he picked up his pace to find the irresponsibly brave greenie. He wasn’t at his hammock, as Newt had assumed, seeing as he must’ve been exhausted. Looking everywhere, from the kitchen to the Bloodhouse, finally ending somewhere in the Deadheads. He had almost given up on his search, when he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye. Leaning against a tree, was the brunet he had searched the whole Glade for. Thomas was sitting with his eyes closed, looking so peaceful that Newt wondered if he should go back. However, just as he was about to turn around and let him be, he called out.

“Newt?” Thomas’ brown eyes were gazing at him when he turned around, so stunning that Newt had to nervously swallow a lump in his throat. How had he not noticed before? As an answer he simply walked closer and silently sat next to the confused greenie, trying to get a hold of his now revealing emotions. They sat silently for a while, neither of them quite knowing what to say. Trying hard not to look at the other, Newt was battling himself in his mind. On the one hand, he was incredibly angry at the greenie to ignore the strict rules and throwing himself into a suicidal mission not giving a single thought on anyone’s need for him. _His_ need for him, though he had just realised now. On the other hand, all he wanted to do was embrace the stupid brunet, hold him close and just kiss those bloody lips already. Giving an exasperated sigh, he felt the other’s gaze on him. He knew it wouldn’t be long until his curiosity would burst.

“If this is about me breaking the rules –“ Thomas begun hesitantly.

“Of course it’s about you breaking the bloody rules!” Newt interrupted him, raising his voice. He snapped his neck to look at the captivating eyes, trying his hardest not to be swayed by the adorable look.

“Can’t you for _one second_ think about anything else than your own desire to seek fatal danger? You really are bloody selfish, you know that? I can’t believe you just left me like that with –“ he ranted, but was abruptly stopped, not noticing what he had said.

“Left you?” Thomas repeated with a quizzical and slightly confused expression. Newt bit his lips realising he hadn’t paid attention to the flow of his words and had let his heart in control. He looked at the ground, not trusting himself to be capable of restraining his actions. He felt Thomas shift to get a better look at him, but his gaze remained on the ground.

“I’m sorry” came a quiet voice, surprising Newt. He hesitantly raised his head to face the other, noting that Thomas’ eyes had never left him. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, made his safely constructed walls crumble, his defence lowering automatically. Thomas noticed his watering eyes and gently but sternly brought his head down on his shoulder and held him closely while Newt let his tears that he had been bottling up inside him flow. They sat like that for a while, Newt quietly sobbing into Thomas’ shoulder, while Thomas stroked his hair comfortingly. When he found his voice, he wasn’t able to stop the flow of words.

“Please don’t leave me again. I can’t – You can’t – I can’t lose you. Not you, Tommy” he sobbed, burying himself closer, grateful that he could hide and not face the other.

“I won’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would care this much,” he whispered quietly into the blond hair, and if Newt hadn’t been paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed the hidden insecurity. This caused him to push himself away, just enough to look into the deepest brown eyes he had ever seen.

“Of course I care. I care so much it scares me, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this way before – about anyone” he said quietly and was suddenly aware of their closeness. Their breaths mingled, and he couldn’t help but look at the pink lips only a breath away from his own. At his words, the arms around him tightened, and he felt self-conscience spread through his body like a fire threatening to burn him down to ashes. However, Thomas didn’t push away or look horrified at his confession, which gave fuel to the little hope he had. Thomas’ eyes were shifting from his lips to his eyes, and he didn’t need more encouragement to lean the few centimetres forward to meet his lips.

Kissing Thomas for the first time was like touching fire. The burning sensation crept its way through his heart in a surprisingly pleasant way, making his fingers itch with the need of touching him. It didn’t take him long, before Thomas responded with the same hunger, his hands sliding to a tight grip on his waist. Newt finally gave in to the temptation and lost himself in Thomas, letting his fingers bury themselves in his soft hair. Thomas nibbled at his bottom lip and Newt more than willingly opened his mouth. The kiss was heated, both losing themselves to the frantic hunger they had for each other. They only pulled apart when they were in desperate need of air, and even then they didn’t pull farther away than they could rest their foreheads against the other’s. They remained in that position, catching their breaths before their eyes met and they exchanged shining, heartfelt smiles.

“I should break the rules more often” Thomas said jokingly, earning a stern look and a slap at his chest.

“Don’t you bloody dare,” Newt replied, gripping his neck in an attempt to hold him close. Thomas merely smiled and returned the embrace.

“There’s no stupid rule about dating your superiors, is there?” he asked with a confident smirk. Newt felt the blush spread on his cheeks, but didn’t drop his gaze.

“If there was, I’m sure you wouldn’t bother keeping it anyway.” He returned the smirk before leaning in to capture Thomas’ lips in a sweet kiss, deciding it had been too long since last. Based on the other’s compliance, Thomas agreed.

~*~

The memories were just as destroying as they were comforting. Newt lifted his hand to cup Thomas’ cheek, finally touching him and feeling the coldness of his skin. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be. His Tommy was always warm and had sun-kissed skin. He had a cheeky smile and a glint in his eyes meant only for him. He wasn’t supposed to lie on a bed, fighting deadly venom coursing through his body. Newt slid his hand upwards to run his hands through the soft strands of hair, moistened by the beads of sweat on his forehead. He succumbed to the rush of need and let his other hand intertwine with the brunet’s, suddenly not caring if anyone were to walk in on them. It was strange how careless he had suddenly become, and how dull the world seemed without the usual bright smile lightening it up.

He tried not to think of what would happen, if he never saw that smile again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for angst (can you tell?)  
> So yeah, yet another chapter! Wooh!  
> I already have a few ideas on the next chapter, and I can't wait to see what you think of this one!  
> You guys are seriously the best, I've never gotten this great feedback! (just another proof that tmr fandom is awesome)  
> But yeah, I'll stop the rant 'cause you guys have a chapter to read *smug smile* xoxo

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, gripping Thomas’ hand, when Clint walked in. He murmured something about checking the patient’s state, but didn’t object to Newt sitting next to the bed while doing so. He had to look away when he prodded a syringe into a pale arm, focusing his gaze on Thomas’ face. Clint took his temperature, his pulse, and asked Newt to wipe the sweat away, which he did without objection, glad he could help. He was asked if there had been any changes, which Newt sadly had to turn down.

“It’ll take a while for the serum to take effect anyway, so I hadn’t counted on it. We’ll need to keep an eye on him during the night though, to see how his body reacts to it.” He explained, wiping a hand over his tired eyes.

“I can look after him, wake you up if anything happens” Newt said, having noticed the reluctance in having to stay up for a full night when Clint was obviously exhausted. The med-jack blinked, surprised at the offer and for a second, Newt was worried he might decline. However, the relief was evident when he gratefully accepted the offer, and told him to wake him up at any change. With a last check on Thomas, Clint made his way towards his room that was just across the medical room. It was only then Newt noticed how dark it was outside and he realised how long he’d been sitting there. His stomach growled, but he refused to leave Thomas’ side.

A few knocks on the door caused his attention to shift momentarily, but when he saw who walked in, he stubbornly returned his gaze to the unconscious form on the bed. Alby ignored his attempt at making him leave and instead pulled a chair next to him and settled there. Newt refused to meet his gaze, making Alby sigh heavily. He pushed something into the younger’s lap, forcing him to look. It was a plate with a sandwich and some fruit on it.

“You didn’t show up, so I figured you’d be hungry.” Alby stated. Of course Newt’s stomach growled traitorously, causing Alby to smirk knowingly. Sighing, he realised he might as well take the peace offering if it meant getting something to eat. He chewed quietly, silently grateful for his friend’s consideration – even if he had been rather rude earlier that day.

“I’m not here to apologise. You know why I did it, and I stand by my opinion. Now that you’ve seen what shape he’s in, you ought to be sensible enough to see the truth,” he said calmly. Even though Newt hated him for it, he knew he was right. Even Jeff and Clint had given up on him, so he should too. Just looking at the pain evident on the Runner’s face should be enough to convince him. He suddenly didn’t feel any more hunger. Seeing the shift in his friend, Alby laid a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

“I know it’s hard. But it’s better for you to accept it than have unrealistic hopes that will only be destroyed. I’m sorry, really, I am.” With a last pat on the back, Alby headed out the door. Just before he closed it, he turned around.

“And get some sleep. You won’t do any good for any of us if you faint in the Gardens.” He flashed a soothing smile, before closing the door, leaving Newt to his thoughts. Sighing, he put the plate away, occupying his fingers with the knuckles on the too thin hand belonging to the still figure in front of him. He brushed his thumb over the frown on Thomas’ forehead, as if he could ease it out by a single touch. Caressing him gently, his own nerves quieted down, and soon his own breathing slowed.

~*~

He woke, startled by the bed moving. _No, it’s not the bed… it’s –_

“Tommy!” he called out, as he realised the state of said person. Thomas was shaking, white foam spilling out of his cracked lips. His eyes were still closed and just as Newt moved his head from the other’s chest, he started thrashing violently. Trying to pin him to the bed so he couldn’t hurt himself, he called out to whoever was listening, hoping his voice was loud enough to wake either Jeff or Clint. Luckily, it seemed they were prepared for the situation. They both ran through the door, not looking the tiniest bit tired, their faces stern and determined.

“Keep holding him,” Jeff instructed, while fetching something from the drawer. Clint rushed over to help him keep his hold, as Thomas was surprisingly strong, even in his weakened state.

“What’s happening?” Newt asked, not bothering to hide the horror he was feeling.

“His body’s reacting badly to the serum – it won’t accept it.” Clint replied rather coolly, seemingly not worried about the shaking patient. If Newt didn’t know better, he’d gather the med-jack didn’t care for his patient, but after years of cooperation, he knew how important it was to focus on the task at hand and have a cold attitude. That didn’t stop _him_ from freaking out, though. Suddenly, Thomas started screaming, the agonising cries freezing Newt’s insides with terror.

“What do we do? Please, do something, _anything!_ ” he cried frantically, his sweaty fingers losing their grip on the thrashing Runner. Neither med-jack answered, too consumed in their work to explain that they too weren’t sure what to do. After all, before the Gladers usually got the serum at least a day after they were stung; this was new waters for them and their boat was sinking.

It continued for what seemed like hours with Newt and Clint pinning him to the bed and Jeff trying various methods to ease his pain. None of it seemed to work. Newt had changed position and sat by his head, stroking his sweat-moistened forehead and whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to calm him. Finally, his body relaxed and his breathing slowed down to almost nothing.

“Probably from exhaustion.” Jeff said, wiping his hand over his tired face.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Newt asked, his voice frail and quiet. Jeff and Clint shared the look that Newt was beginning to hate.

“I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t seem the antidote is working. There’s nothing we can do,” Clint said. Newt’s face visibly fell, the words striking him with great force. The med-jack walked over and put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry Newt.”

Despite having cried nearly the whole previous day, somehow tears still formed in his eyes. He lowered his head to look at the sleeping form in his lap, wondering what the wonderful, innocent being had ever done to deserve this pain. The med-jacks shifted awkwardly not wanting to disturb the broken co-commander.

“Leave us. Please. I just need to be alone right now.” He said in that abnormally miserable tone that the otherwise strong leader never had shown. It didn’t take long for the two of them to leave, glad to be excused.

With only the two boys in the room, Newt couldn’t help but focus on the too still figure. Gazing at the eyes that would never open again, Newt held him close and cried what was left of his heart out.

Darkness enveloped him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in one day? What is happening?  
> So yeah, this is basically a flashback from before Thomas got stuck in the maze for the second time!  
> Some fluffy stuff to soothe your (and my) aching heart!  
> This is also my first shot at fluff sooooo I'm not really sure how it went cx  
> Anyhow: Allons-y! xoxo

As the early daylight crept through the window, it awoke the sleeping blonde. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness. He became aware of the presence next to him and couldn’t stop the smile when he noticed the sleeping brunet. He lay halfway on top of him, his head on the bare and wide chest of the Runner. He turned his head to gaze on the moles adorning the brunet’s neck, crawling their way up towards his face. Lightly, he touched every one of them, his lips tingling with the memory of kissing them. His hand traced the brown star patterns and gently stroked the pink lips still slightly swollen, feeling the breaths tickling his fingers. His hand moved further up until they tangled themselves in the other’s hair, gently pulling and twirling strands of hair.

When he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, he leaned upwards and captured the other’s lips in a light kiss. Just as he was about to pull away, afraid he’d wake the seemingly sleeping boy, two strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer, easily convincing him to staying in the position. Newt smiled against the soft lips, momentarily breaking the kiss.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He said, his voice husky. Thomas merely hummed before firmly pulled the blonde closer, ensuring another kiss. Newt didn’t need any other persuasion, eagerly replying and nibbling Thomas’ lips. Thomas slipped his hand up Newt’s back and tilted his head slightly to get better access. Newt moaned, melting in his embrace. Thomas tightened his grip, pressing him closer in greedy need for intimacy. And Newt gave it willingly to him. He would give him everything.

The foolish greenie, who had carelessly thrown himself into danger just to save some guys he didn’t even know that well. Thomas, who could be scared and yet at the same time possess such braveness and recklessness. Thomas, who had shown him he wasn’t alone and that it was okay to be frightened. Thomas, who had loved him when he couldn’t love himself. His Tommy. Only his. The blue marks on the brunet’s neck stated this loudly for everyone to see. He consciously made the love bites where he knew the usual blue shirt wouldn’t hide them. He marvelled cheekily when ignorant Gladers would ask about them and Thomas would blush furiously before steering the conversation to a completely new subject. Luckily, he was good at distracting the Gladers, making them forget about their inquiry in the first place. Then Newt would spent the night making more marks and the circle would start all over.

As the sun rose steadily, their time together was running out. Thomas was, after all, a Runner and had to be ready when access to the maze was possible. He seemed to notice the time as well, as he released a heavy sigh. He flopped his head back against the pillow, looking through his eyelashes at Newt, whose heart threatened to punch through his chest at the sight.

“I have to go.” Thomas said, reluctance evident in his eyes.

“I know.” Newt let his hand caress the other’s cheek before moving away to make him able to get out of bed. He started pulling his clothes on himself as he too had to be up early. Thomas shifted until he sat closely next to him and stopped him by grabbing his arms. At Newt’s quizzical look, Thomas merely grinned mischievously and took the clothes from his arms. Keeping their eye contact, he pulled the brown top over the blonde’s head, using every excuse to touch him as he rearranged it comfortably. Next, he got down from the bed to kneel in front of Newt, who raised his eyebrows in response.

With a glint in his eyes, he caressed the blonde’s thighs slightly parting his legs. Newt’s breath hitched in anticipation, but Thomas reached for the brown trousers. He sent tingling sensations, as he was careful to caress every bit of skin before pulling the rough material on him. He slid the trousers upwards until his hands ended on Newt’s butt cheeks and gave a teasing squeeze, causing Newt to yelp slightly. He did the buttons and zipper painfully slow and Newt couldn’t help the heat rising to his face (and another slightly less hidden part). Then, he stood up slowly, rubbing their thighs together until he ended in Newt’s lap. There he pulled the last piece of clothing – his hoodie – over his head. Newt’s face was flushed and he had to swallow several times to resist the temptation to just _take him right then and there._ His pants were uncomfortably tight, but judging on the smug grin on Thomas’ face it was fully intentional.

Before Newt had composed himself, Thomas was already dressed and ready to go. He leaned in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss – that did nothing to help Newt’s rush of feelings. He rested his forehead against Newt’s and closed his eyes to savour the kiss that always helped him get through the day.

“Promise me.” Newt whispered, his daily request not necessary to be voiced.

“I promise.”

And with that he took off, giving a cheerful wave as he went out the door, ready to take on the maze and whatever he may stumble upon in it. Newt replied with his usual trusting smile, knowing he would keep his promise as he always did.

That day he didn’t.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, here's another chapter!  
> Reeeeally excited about the next chapter, and already writing some ideas down c:  
> We're nearing the end, you guys...  
> I hope you like it! xoxo

It had been three days. Three days of agonisingly waiting for Thomas to show some sort of change. All in vain. Wasted time, as Alby would occasionally remind him. He dropped by every day, bringing him the meal he failed to show up to. The Glade was filled with whispers all of them directed towards him and his unknown relationship to the greenie.

“Where’s Newt?”

“Why does he spend so much time with the sick greenie?”

_“What’s different?”_

Alby, the wonderful leader he was, had at first tried to calm the pestering gladers down but after three days his patience had run out. He walked through the door with a plate balancing on his left hand; Newt’s breakfast. The blond sat at his usual spot right next to Thomas, holding his hand tightly as if to reassure he was still there. The sight of his second in command caused him to pause.

_Get on with it,_ he thought, shaking his head to determine his mind. He walked confidently towards the other greeting in his usual calm way. When he wasn’t greeted by the usual hum, which was all he got out of the melancholic blond, his positive attitude rapidly changed and his brows furrowed worryingly. He quietly dragged a nearby stool next to his friend and tried to get a glimpse of the other’s face. Newt bowed his head, letting the dirty blond locks cover his face in an attempt to hide from the scrutinising gaze. Alby waited patiently for the other to open up, knowing from experience that it wouldn’t help to push the issue.

“I know what they say, but I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, Alby.” He raised his head slowly, making his tearstained face visible. Alby took a sharp breath when he saw the pain and apathy devouring the boy, leaving an empty shell. He knew this look. This had happened before. He glanced at the leg next to his own, remembering the outcome the last time. Fully determined on not repeating that incident, he laid his hand on Newt’s neck, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Look, Newt. I didn’t come here to force you into the Gardens again. We all know forcing you won’t work.” Alby grinned knowingly hoping to see some reaction from the other. His hopes were shattered when none came and he realised he might not succeed in pulling the boy out of his despair. His eyes turning serious in a matter of seconds, he grasped the blond’s head to make sure he was completely focused on him and what he was about to say.

“Newt,” he said forcefully, causing the other to blink slightly taken aback. “I know how you feel for the greenie there,” he tightened his hold, when the other attempted to gaze at the limp figure. “But you have to put yourself in his shoes. If you were the one stung, if you were the one not waking up,” he tried to ignore the helplessness in the other’s eyes and stubbornly continued to make his point. Newt needed to hear this, even if it was harsh to take in. Alby would do anything – even become the hated friend – if it meant Newt wouldn’t give up, as he was on the brink of doing. “ – would you want him to sit hopelessly at your side, slowly withering into desolation?”

He could see a flicker in the deep, brown eyes. Something had switched inside of Newt, as Alby had hoped, but he had to deliver one more blow. Even though he knew it was low, it was his last hope of bringing Newt back.

“He loves you too, you know.”

He noticed the immediate impact the words had on the smaller boy. His eyes widened and his lips parted slightly in objection, but after a few moments of thought, they closed again. Newt hadn't realised he'd been _that_ obvious. True, he had shown that he cared for Thomas in a way that would be seen as ‘boyfriends’ in the normal world. However, he had always restrained – or tried to at least – his deeper emotions that scared him out into the night, when nothing but Thomas’ calm breath could be heard. He had never voiced these feelings, not sure himself of what they were, but when Alby stated them so blatantly, he felt stupid for not realising sooner.

_I love him._

Alby noticed the faraway look in the brown eyes and was satisfied to have successfully made his point. As he let go, Newt leaned back trying to comprehend the words completely. He imagined himself lying on the bed in Thomas’ place; imagined Thomas sitting next to him with hollow, lifeless eyes. He flinched at the horrible sight in his mind, finally realising what Alby had tried to convey. Imagining Thomas receiving his own thoughts of nothingness and carelessness, his breath hitched and he suddenly couldn't refrain from looking at the other a moment longer. He reached out to grasp the cold hand lying motionlessly on the bed.

_If it were me… if Thomas was holding my hand, waiting for me to wake up… I know what I would do._

_“Get your lazy ass up and help in the Glade. You’re of no use sitting here all gloomy. You have a responsibility to your fellow gladers… and to me. Go out there, and continue being the joyful, brilliant man I know you are. For me.”_

Newt bit his lip, trying to force the threatening tears not to fall. With Alby’s help, he finally heard the silent prays from Thomas.

_Newt. Don’t you dare give up. The gladers depend on you and you on them, even if you don’t realise it. You’re going to live, and someday, you’re getting out of here. You’re going to be alright. I promise._

Alby watched as Newt clenched his fists obviously in deep thought. His eyes were closed, his brows furrowed. Knowing he could do nothing more, he patted him soothingly on his back.

“Today the new greenie will arrive. You think you can show him around? It’s your job after all, and we wouldn’t want to take that from you.” Alby said, hoping it would cheer the warm, welcoming boy. He was the perfect guide, his soothing presence easily calming the anxious newbies. However, the boy shook his head.

“Not today Alby.” He said, his voice despairingly soft. Alby froze, thinking he had failed in his last resort to cheer the blond up. Then, Newt raised his head, for the first time looking at him willingly. He gave a small, forced smile.

“Next time.” And at that moment, Alby couldn’t ask for more.

~*~

It was a few moments after he heard the loud noises notifying the box had come up, when he heard rushing steps closing in. When the door opened it revealed the dark-skinned boy, as Newt had suspected.

“I already told you, I’m not going to show the new greenie around.” Newt said, not bothering to shift his gaze to the newcomer.

“Newt, I really think you want to see this.” The otherwise composed boy’s ragged breath caused Newt to turn his attention towards the door and he immediately noticed the boy’s slumped posture, indicating he had run directly from the box. Newt furrowed his brows, standing from the stool he had spent the last three days on. His legs were numb from sitting still, but he ignored the ache. Something was wrong, that much was perfectly clear. He waited until Alby had caught his breath to explain the situation, happily forgetting the slumped figure on the bed for a second, feeling the authoritative part of him surfacing. He waited anxiously, trying to suppress the curious part of him – that had only been enlarged from spending time with Thomas – and ignoring the experienced part that insisted something was wrong. Alby took a deep breath, straightening himself and looked Newt straight in the eye.

“It’s a girl.”

~*~

_Thomas_. A voice pulled him out of the darkness enveloping him. He was suddenly aware of the pain controlling his body. _Thomas_. A girl’s voice kept calling his name. A strangely familiar voice. _Who are you?_ He replied, his mind too occupied with the pain to scold himself for the childish move.

_You’re going to be alright, Tom_. And somehow, he believed the soothing voice. He turned bizarrely calm for someone in deep agony, and focused on the easing voice. Slowly, but surely, light overpowered the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Teresa! Loong chapter, what?  
> I reeeeeally enjoyed writing this chapter *so excited for you guys to read it*  
> Thank you so so much for all the kudos and amazing comments! I can't even... what are words?!?!?  
> It really brightens my day whenever I read them :-)  
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I did! xoxo

_Who are you? Why can’t I see anything? Am I dead?_ Thomas asked in his mind, slightly scared but mostly curious about the weird connection he had with the girl. Not that he had anything else to do, his limbs paralysed and his head fuzzy. He heard a light chuckle and instantly felt his heart warming.

 _I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much more. I’ll soon lose my memories as well. Just know I’m here for you and I’m not about to let you die, Tom. I’ll see you soon._ Then the connection ended, and he suddenly felt terribly alone.

 _Please wait! What do you mean? What’s going on?_ His endless calling was pointless, as the other had abruptly cut the connection. However, he quickly forgot about his vague attempt, when he noticed motion. Before, it had all been darkness. Then it had turned into bright light that blinded him. But now, the light was darkening, and he saw shadowy movements.

Hoping he was finally waking up, wherever he was, he blinked to clear his cloudy eyes. He realised the blinding light was coming from a lamp above him. The movements were made by people in white clothing, masks covering their entire faces. He became aware of the hard surface he was lying on and the hands prodding him, the needles pricking his skin and then the pain. It felt as though someone drilled a nail into his head but he was too drugged to move away. Then the merciful unconsciousness claimed him, but even in his dazed mind he could still make out a few words.

“Subject… Maze… Variety… Teresa…”

Before he had a chance at figuring out what the words meant, he was pulled into darkness. He blinked, finding himself sitting in an upright position in front of a screen with names and pictures that seemed familiar. Wondering how he got there, he tried to move but found himself incapable of doing so. However, his body moved by itself, as if someone else was controlling it. His body looked to the right where a black-haired girl sat, staring at similar pictures and writing variables. When she noticed his gaze she gave a sad smile and hurriedly returned to whatever she was doing. He returned his gaze at the screen as well. There was a video of a vine-covered wall of some sort and a blond person climbing the ivy’s stretching nearly all the way up. Before he saw what the person intended to do, he felt a rush, as if some unnatural force pulled him, and he was in another scenario.

This time, he was standing in front of a glass container of some sort, the same blond-haired person from the screen standing inside of it. The blond’s hand was resting against the wall separating them, and Thomas felt the urge to place his own on the other’s. However, he remained stoic and emotionless even as he watched water poor in, swallowing the blond slowly. The boy kept eye contact until he had to raise his head in order to keep his mouth above the water. When the container was filled and the boy was unable to hold his breath any longer, he gasped, bubbles of precious air escaping his mouth and surfacing to safety. He struggled, his mouth open in a silent scream until he finally closed his eyes. A hand crept its way on Thomas’ shoulders and he looked to see the girl keeping a neutral face, though Thomas could easily decipher the hidden sympathy in her eyes.

Once again, he was pulled away from his body, though now returning to the darkness. That’s when he realised; they were memories. His memories.

~*~

Newt stood at the end of the unconscious girl’s bed wondering what it had all meant. The sudden change in the pattern. The note. The call for Thomas. How did this girl – this _stranger_ – know Thomas’ name? It had stirred something in Newt, some memory he couldn’t reveal, and he found himself not wanting to let her out of his sight. He stayed there, even as night came, having assured that Jeff had checked up on Thomas.

_I don’t trust this one bit._

Startled, he realised he had dozed off sometime during the night. He quickly looked over to check on the girl, but noticed with his heart in his throat that she was gone. Frantically, he looked around the room for any sign of her, but found none. He rushed out of the room and hurried up the stairs, all his instincts urging him to check on Thomas. He pushed the door open causing it to bang against the wall, sure to wake everyone in the Homestead up. Sure enough, the black-haired girl was sitting next to Thomas with her back to the door. On the stool that _he_ used.

At the loud bang she turned around with wide eyes, revealing her position. She was holding some kind of syringe, already inserted in Thomas’ pale arm. Anger flared in the blond and in a matter of seconds he was shoving her roughly against the wall as far from Thomas as possible. He held her firmly in place, one arm securing her wrists, the other pushing threateningly to her neck, giving her just enough air to gasp.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he growled, baring his teeth and scrunching his nose in disgust. She coughed a bit still in shock and Newt eased his hold around her neck slightly to let her speak.

“I’m – I’m trying to save him.” She gasped, her eyes wide with terror. He glanced quickly at the still form.

“What do you mean?” he asked, now slightly curious but still wary. Before she could answer, running footsteps made them both turn their gaze towards the door where Alby came running in.

“What’s going on? Newt!” he exclaimed when he saw their position.

“She escaped. Get that syringe out of Thomas –“

“ **NO!** ” the girl yelled, struggling violently to get out of the grasp. Newt was caught off guard but managed to withhold her, even though she was stronger than she looked. Her desperate fighting made Alby pause, and the two leaders shared a look.

“What did you do to him?” Newt demanded, his breath slightly heavy from the strain. The girl stopped when she noticed both were waiting for an answer, knowing they wouldn’t dare do anything before she spoke. She knew this was her only chance. He saw her weighing the words in her mind, before deciding.

“I don’t know.” She said. Newt’s impulse thought was _liar_ , but the honesty in her eyes was not to be mistaken. Alby looked at him for guidance, but Newt stared at the girl, willing her to keep speaking.

“I’m not sure what’s in that syringe. All I know, is that he’s dying and he needs it to survive. That I was sent here to help him.” Her pleading eyes were not ones of desperation to survive. Quite the contrary, they radiated the will to help a friend. But how could she be so certain? How did they know that this wouldn’t kill him? _All I know, is that he’s dying_. Her words echoed through his mind. What else could they possibly do? She certainly believed this stuff would work, and he didn’t really have any other solution, did he? He looked at Alby, unsure of what to do and in need of another opinion. The boy shrugged.

“I’d say give it a shot. We’ve not really got any other alternative, have we?” Newt nodded and glanced back at the girl.

“What else do you remember?” he asked, his voice still rough and untrusting. She, however, seemed to be at ease when they hadn’t made another move to ruin her intention.

“Not much. I woke up, and this was on my arm,” Newt hesitantly let go of her to let her show her arm which had black letters written on it. _Help Thomas,_ it said. “I remember a voice, calling for help. That’s how I knew where he was – who he is.” Newt finally let go of her completely, accepting her answer. He turned his back on her, letting her finish injecting whatever was in that syringe. Alby watched her, so he didn’t need to keep an eye on her. For some reason, he didn’t want to see her standing close to Thomas after what she had said.

“What’s your name?” Alby asked then, causing Newt to shoot him a surprised glance. He turned to see the girl just as surprised, the empty syringe now in her hands. Then, she recovered and smiled gratefully.

“Teresa.”

~*~

Newt spend the whole day with Thomas, not daring to leave his side despite his promise to Alby. It seemed the leader didn’t mind it as he stepped in Newt’s place and gave the girl – _Teresa_ – the usual tour for greenies. It seemed the gladers were quick to welcome the new greenie. Except Gally, of course, who was interpreting the girl’s arrival more than necessary. Thomas had yet to show any signs of recovery. If anything, his breath seemed to be more strained than usual. Every time he breathed, a hoarse croak sounded as if he was choking on the air. Newt sat by his side, holding his hand tightly, stroking his forehead gently. He stayed in this position, secretly wondering how the new girl had settled in. His heart clenched at the memory of her first outburst. Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he hated how she seemed to have a special bond to his Thomas. He hadn’t even known of his existence before he showed up in the box, and even then he hadn’t thought him any different from the other greenies. Yet it seemed all she remembered was Thomas. How come? Had the Creators not removed her memories correctly? Had something gone wrong in the process of sending her here? Or even worse: was their past relationship so strong it was simply impossible for her to forget him?

A whole other kind of anxiety struck him then. He had never questioned Thomas and his relationship but now that the girl was here, would that change? Would he cast him aside when he realised Teresa had arrived? For a horrifying, egoistic second he wished Thomas wouldn’t wake. Shocked by himself he recoiled slightly, letting go of Thomas’ hand. Grabbing his head with both hands, he shook it, trying to rid of the revolting thoughts poisoning his mind. He glanced at the still form. No change. Deciding he needed to clear his mind, he bolted out of the room, not wanting to show this disgusting side of himself even to the unconscious Thomas.

He spent a good deal of time near the Deadheads. Somehow, it was easier to breathe in the woods, his clouded mind reliving joyful memories.

_Deep, brown eyes pierced his own. The wind ruffled the matching brown hair slightly, the locks swaying gently in the breeze. He felt the pressure against his shoulder shift as pink, slightly parted lips moved closer and closer. The brown eyes closed halfway, his long, black eyelashes fluttering. Newt made a surprised gasp, causing the other to freeze. The brunet opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling downwards. The disappointment was clearly evident and an embarrassed blush spread across his cheeks._

_Just as he was about to lean away giving the blond space, Newt rushed forward, too eager to take notice of their teeth colliding. He felt the other’s stiffness but stubbornly moved his lips. When the shock subsided, he felt a large hand cupping his cheek and Thomas’ lips moving in sync with his own. Butterflies filled his stomach all the anticipation he hadn’t dared to surface finally taking over his mind. Before he hadn’t even imagined Thomas feeling this way about him, sure that he would’ve mentioned his preferences in their usual late-night talks._

_Insecurity suddenly flooding over him, he pulled away slightly. What if this was just a twisted implanted feeling of protectiveness that led him into thinking like this? What if he, in reality, just thought this was what was expected of him, and not an action of true desire?_

_When he met Thomas’ eyes, mere inches from his own, they were radiating sincere happiness and suddenly nothing else mattered. He returned the genuine smile and felt more confident than ever when Thomas leaned in, capturing his lips in their second kiss in a silent promise of more to come._

He leaned against the familiar tree trunk, looking over his left shoulder, remembering the happy moment that marked the start of their new relationship. Realising the sun was setting, he forced himself away from his sacred place and made his way towards the Homestead, hoping there’d been a change in Thomas’ condition.

He walked up the stairs in a much better mind than before, feeling warmth surround his heart. Opening the door, a new hope rose within him. His head raised high, he walked towards the bed, where he had left Thomas.

Only to find it empty.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Had a bunch of essays that I had postponed... *sigh*  
> But here is another chapter :-)  
> I have a lot of exams coming up, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update. I'll probably be writing when taking breaks to relieve some of the stress :-)  
> But yeah, I hope you enjoy!  
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments and kudos (I really can't thank you enough) xoxo

_Tom._ The voice. He had to find the source. He knew that voice. It was the girl from his dream – memory? No matter what, he knew he had to find her. She was here, in the Glade. That, he remembered. Amongst a lot of other things. His newfound memories left his head swirling in trying to comprehend them all. Whether his dry mouth was due to being unconscious or because of his memories, he didn’t know. His legs were buckling, his vision blurry from the strain of moving while still in pain.

He had woken up in a shock, drenched in cold sweat his memories crystal clear. It took him only a moment to realise where he was before the thought that Teresa should’ve already arrived. He needed answers. He needed to know if what he saw had really been his memories, or if they had been conjured by the Creators – WICKED, as he could now name them. He had already looked through the Homestead, hiding when gladers walked past him, too impatient to bother with their questions. He was squeezed in between a wall and a dresser, waiting for someone he couldn’t recognise from their voices to pass, when he was struck with a memory:

_“I’ll soon lose my memories as well.”_

She had warned him. Even if he found Teresa, she probably wouldn’t even remember him, certainly not their occupation in WICKED. Suddenly unsure of his rushed action, he didn’t notice the fading footsteps. Shaking his head, he makes sure the coast was clear before forcing his pace to quicken. He wanted to run, but knew it would be risky in his condition. Besides, it wouldn't do if Newt found him passed out on the hallway.

_Newt._ A rush of guilt overwhelmed him and he tried to lead his thoughts away from the innocent blond. _He’ll probably kill me when he realises I've escaped…_ Really, he wanted to find the blond and make sure he was alright. He knew how anxious the co-leader could get even when he was around; to be separated for so long, Thomas had no idea how he had been. He forced himself to focus on his disturbing dream that he was hoping more and more for every step was just a dream. When he finally got outside the Homestead, the fresh air did well for his sweat-drenched body. He glanced around making sure no one paid any attention towards the entrance before swiftly hiding himself in the shadows where he could search the Glade without being caught.

He thoroughly looked through the Deadheads, the Gardens (Newt wasn't there, he noticed, but shook his head, ignoring his clenching heart) and finally the Bloodhouse. He didn't expect her to be there, remembering the disgust evident in her face whenever she had to oversee this particular part of the Glade. Skimming the area he concluded she wasn't there and was about to leave when he heard a squeal. He turned around immediately towards the direction of the sound, knowing it could only have been her. It came from the pens where the animals where held. _Of course._

He sneaked towards the pens, careful to avoid the gladers going to and from the Bloodhouse, bleats filling the air whenever the doors were opened. His eye caught a glimpse of black hair and when he stretched his neck to see, she was walking towards the kitchen. He spotted a few others heading that direction and figured it was around lunch time. Taking a deep breath, he leapt forwards on shaking legs, clashing into the frail girl, muting her surprised scream with his hand and pushing them both in the cover of the wood. Once away from the gladers sight she easily slipped out of his grasp as he tiredly fell to the ground, gasping for air. His head swam and his sight blackened. He tried to focus on breathing, not conscious enough to register the quiet call for him. His headache increased greatly, his head thumping with a sound-erasing thrum. He felt hands grip the fabric of his shirt and he gratefully leaned towards her, not able to carry his own weight. He collapsed on her and she shifted so that his head rested in her lap. When the pain finally subsided he was met by strikingly blue, concerned eyes.

“Tom?” she whispered quietly, aware of his pained state and not seeking to increase it. He gave her a slight smile, surprised that he remembered every inch of her face as though he had known her his entire life. _Maybe I have._ Composing himself and trying to forget the familiarity, still stubborn to believe it was all a dream even if every second proved him wrong, he parted his dry lips and tried to speak.

“Do you – Do you remember me?” he managed to croak out, his throat hurting at the attempt but his eyes fierce in his pursuit. She furrowed her eyebrows at his question and chuckled slightly.

“Of course I do; I just called your name, remember?” She frowned worriedly, afraid something had gone wrong in her mission to cure him. He shook his head.

“No, I mean… From before all this. Do you remember what we did?” His eyes glistened by the memory, but stubbornly held her gaze. She opened her mouth to answered, but closed it soon again as she thought about his words. Finally, she submittingly shook her head, causing Thomas to relieve a sigh. He closed his eyes, thinking about his vain attempt, finally realising how stupid it was. Seeing his disappointed expression, she bit her lip, hesitating slightly.

“I – When I first woke up, all I could think about was you; I saw your face in my mind, saw you in pain. On my arm, it said to help you. I heard your voice; somehow, I spoke to you, and I just knew where you were,” she shook her head slightly, avoiding his gaze. “I know it sounds bizarre, I don’t even know what to believe myself.” He lifted a hand and grabbed her chin to turn her gaze towards him again. Her eyes met his and he saw the deep frustration of unawareness and insecurity that he knew so well. He remembered how she had spoken to him; and how he had answered. Focusing all his energy on this girl that he knew so well, he sought the special connection they had.

_It’s alright._ She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for her head. He noticed the confusion, the surprised fright, and the curiosity come like waves in her ocean blue eyes. Then finally, determination replaced it all and she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration.

_What is this?_ Her eyes widened at the successful attempt, and he couldn’t help but smile at the proudness in them.

_I’m not sure; it’s always been like this._ At his statement, she frowned again.

_What do you mean “always”?_ He met her curious stare and offered a sad smile. He took a deep breath, wondering where to start.

Then he told her everything.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are... The last chapter...  
> I'm so excited and sad at the same time... This has been amazing - You guys have been amazing! :-)  
> So once again:  
> Thank you so much for all the support during this series! I keep every comment, kudo even view close to my heart (wow sentimental much? haha)  
> If you have any prompts for this ship, I'd be more than happy to try it out! (as I've never tried getting prompts before. I'm a sad person, x))  
> (also, 13 is my lucky number, so I'll blame this fic's fortune on that c: )
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter! xoxo

He panted heavily, scrutinising every area thoroughly as he ran in the Glade. His leg throbbed but he couldn’t care less about the state of himself when Thomas was nowhere to be found. Where the stupid brunet had gone, he had no idea. He had asked all the gladers on his way but no one had seen him, adding to Newt’s worry. Where had he gone? _Why_ would he even leave the bed?

He ran through every part of the Glade, not bothering to stop and explain when gladers inquired about the frantic look in his eyes. When his ragged breath hurt his throat and his vision swam, he briefly stopped up. He used the time to try to wrap his mind around the brunet’s track of thought. _Why would he leave? Where could he go to?_ For some reason, Thomas thought it more important to do – whatever it was he needed to do – than think of his own health. Thinking about it, Newt should’ve seen it coming. It was so typical Thomas. He just needed to find some clue about where he was.

The Glade started buzzing with laughter and talk and he turned around to see most of them heading towards the kitchen. Lunch. Then he realised; he had only been places filled with other gladers. Places where Thomas would’ve been noticed. _Of course, he wouldn’t want to be noticed… They would just tell him to get back to bed_. Finding a new source of energy, he ran towards the wood surrounding the Deadheads. His first thought was to check their tree; maybe he was waiting there? A smile spread on the blond’s face, the thought of seeing his Tommy alive and well warming his heart. He arrived at their spot only to see it empty but his happiness didn’t fade. The deep, soothing voice that he had been living dully without sounded quietly not far away. He followed the voice, his heart beating faster and faster in anticipation. All those pining days, all those anxious thoughts and horrible nightmares, nothing would matter when he saw his Tommy once again.

The sight crumbled his carefully collected heart

~*~

Once Thomas had finished his emotional tale, Teresa’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears. His heart ached at the sight, knowing how difficult it was to comprehend it all. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her, causing her to lose the little self-control she had. The tears spilled, flowing own her cheeks and onto her quivering lips.

“I just… I can’t believe it,” she breathed deeply, trying to ignore the sense of denial that washed over her. Thomas’ eyes were filled with sympathy, being horribly familiar with the undying wish that it wasn’t true.

“How could we do such a thing? Why did we do it? There must’ve been some reason.” She said, looking up with wide eyes, hoping for an explanation.

“I’m sorry. That’s how far my memories go. All I know, is that we were a crucial part of this _experiment_ ,” he spit the word with vile, disgusted with himself and his former _colleagues_. The word made him shudder. A hand on his shoulder made him lift his gaze and he found azure eyes though still filled with tears they were strong and Thomas was once again taken aback by the girl’s willpower.

He wiped her tears and pulled her in a comforting embrace. The weight on his heart had lessened greatly by sharing his painful memories and it was unimaginably lonely to carry it all by himself. It was incredibly relieving to confide his insecurities to someone who could understand. His mind strayed to Newt. It was usually the blond boy he confided in, but he wasn’t sure he could in this particular incident. If he told him, would he hate him? Some part of Thomas almost wished he would; he hated himself for it. For not being able to do anything when _it_ happened. Thomas cringed at the awful memory of the blond climbing the green vines halfway to the top.

Newt had never told him the reason for his limp, and after several inquiries he noticed the pain in the blond’s eyes and had decided he would be patient and wait for him to take the initiative to tell him. Knowing the truth, he understood now why Newt had been so hesitant; even if they entrusted everything to each other. Well, almost everything. Thomas’ heart stung at the thought, knowing he was just as guilty in not explaining himself. A sudden rush of longing made him pull away from the now calmer girl. He needed to find Newt.

He needn’t look long.

Just as he pulled away he heard a sharp intake of breath and when he turned towards the source his heart leapt. Although, his smile quickly faltered when he saw the distrust in Newt’s eyes. He carefully stood up on his still weak legs and took a careful step towards the other, ignoring the sharp pain spreading through his body by the single step.

“Newt?” he asked carefully, not entirely sure of the reason behind the hurtful look. The name seemed to bring him out of his dazed state. His eyes broke their gaze and they flickered between Teresa and Thomas. That finally seemed to make Thomas understand.

“No, Newt, this is not –“ he said frantically, trying to walk to the other, but the pain throbbing in his body stopping him from doing so. He didn’t have a chance to say anything else before Newt interrupted him with a shake of his head.

“I understand. I’ll leave you two to it.” He turned around and started to walk away, his shoulders visibly slouched.

“Newt! Wait!” Thomas cried out and tried to follow. His vision swam, he could hear blood streaming in his ears but he stubbornly moved his feet towards the retreating blond. Teresa noticed the sweat sliding down from his forehead and stood to put a hand on his arm and hold him back. He swatted the hand away with more force than necessary and took another step. His breath was ragged, his legs buckling, his stomach turning inside out. The rushing of blood and unsteady drumming in his head drowned every sound erupting from the Glade, even the sound of his feet scrunching leaves. It even drowned the sound of his name being called when darkness saved him from the agony exploding in his body.

~*~

When he woke, he registered the softness of the bed he had spent to many days in since his return from the maze. He felt a small weight on his hand and he nearly smiled, his heart fluttering. He turned his head towards the owner and opened his eyes slowly, not bothering to let them adjust to the light before trying to see the person holding his hand. However, when he saw the lack of blond hair and was instead met by raven, his heart fell. Was Newt so hurt, he didn’t even care about him anymore? The thought caused vile to rise in his throat, and he nearly didn’t have the strength to fight it back. Seeing he was conscious, Teresa offered a comforting smile. Thomas smiled lightly back, thankful for the small gesture, even if his heart was tearing into shreds. The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor made Thomas turn his head so fast he nearly got whiplash. His heart lightened with hope, even as the blond was nearly out the door. Without thinking, as usual, he threw the covers away and nearly collapsed immediately when his unsteady legs were forced to carry his weight.

“Thomas!” Teresa exclaimed already standing, about to make her way to support him, but she stopped and glanced towards the door where the blond had frozen in place. Seeing he hadn’t walked out yet, Thomas bottled up the courage to take another step towards him. He cried out in surprise when the strain was too much. By the sound, Newt whipped around just in time to see the brunet fall to the floor. When Thomas determinedly pushed himself up and tried to stand up again, Newt sighed frustratingly at the other’s stubbornness. Thomas ignored the sweat forming and focused on getting up again, irritated at his own helplessness. He felt a steady grip on his arm and raised his head to meet deep, brown eyes. He smiled slightly before wincing at the pain.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that? Just… get to bed.” Newt said, avoiding the childish grin he cared so much for and stood up, pulling the other with him to lead him to bed. However, Thomas resisted, causing Newt to glare at him.

“Not until you listen me out.” He said, forcing eye contact. Newt looked hesitantly to where Teresa had stood, but noticed she was not in the room anymore having left without either of them noticing. He sighed and nodded, trying not to be captivated by the light shining in the brunet’s eyes.

“Fine, but you _need_ to get into the bed. You’re so bloody careless, not letting yourself rest.” Thomas smiled at the worried tone and obediently let Newt help him in the bed again, leaning against his shoulder. When he sat on the bed and Newt began to pull away, Thomas firmly held his hand, not daring to let him go. Newt’s eyes softened momentarily before he avoided his gaze and sat on a stool close to Thomas. He sat patiently and listened. Thought Thomas didn’t speak.

“Go on. Say what you wanted to say,” he said, slightly annoyed by the younger. Said person bit his lip, making him look much more adorable than Newt would like to admit at given time.

“About Teresa –“ he began hesitatingly, stopping when he felt Newt freeze and noticed the clench of his jaw. Thoughtlessly, he stretched his other hand to rest on the blond’s cheek, before he realised Newt might pull away. Though, Newt nearly forgot his irritation and leaned against the calloused hand, having missed his touch too much to care and Thomas found the courage to let his thumb caress the sun kissed skin.

“When I was unconscious, I had these dreams,” he started again, trying a different approach. Seeing the focus in the familiar, lovable eyes he continued, “I saw myself. How I was before the maze. What I did,” he stopped, the guilt crashing down on him once again. “My memories. I remember them preparing me, I remember seeing you. I –“ he tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat but it stayed there, taunting him. He felt his eyes watering and he let his gaze fall to his lap, his hand falling down as well. Noticing the obvious difficulty, Newt leaned closer to grab his hand again, caressing it gently.

“It’s alright. Hey, it’s alright,” Newt whispered, his hand wiping the traitorous tears that had managed to escape. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you to say any-“ he started but Thomas cut him off.

“No. No, I want to explain.” The determination in his eyes was enough to convince the worried blond, even though he felt slightly guilty for letting him go back to the obviously dreadful memories. He knew all too well what that was like. Thomas closed his eyes to take a deep breath before continuing.

“That’s why I know Teresa,” he said, opening his eyes to watch Newt’s reaction. He concealed it well, but Thomas knew him enough to notice the small squint of his eyes. “We worked together before all this. But that’s all,” Thomas closed the small distance between them and rested his forehead on the other’s. “That’s all, I swear it. We were good friends – maybe even the best – before I got here. Trust me.” He whispered the last part, desperate to let him know that he had only ever loved one person; and that that person was sitting right in front of him. Said person was frighteningly quiet, and Thomas was just about to pull away to give the other space, when he felt a pair of soft lips on his own.

He sighed heavily in relief, his lips curling up into a smile before he eagerly pressed forward, responding with all his might. He moved his hand to Newt’s neck and the other to his waist to demand their closeness to the limit. Newt’s hands made their way up to entangle themselves in Thomas’ hair, and he turned his head slightly to gain more access to the brunet’s mouth. He had gone excessively long without his love’s touch and in his privation, selfishly needy and demanding. Not that Thomas minded; he was just as deprived as the other was. With no thought of their surroundings, Thomas pulled Newt up on his lap, before reality struck.

He was forced to pull away when pain shot through his weakened body. He gasped in loudly, his throat itching with the force causing him to cough violently. His body shook of strain and he would’ve fallen backwards had Newt not held him up.

“Shuck, Tommy, you should’ve pushed me away!” Newt scolded, leaving his position in order to help the brunet lay down. He helped him drink some water but when the coughs subsided Thomas pulled him close once more.

“I could never,” he said with a smirk, trying to sit up to steal another kiss, but Newt pushed him down.

“Stay there. You’re not getting out of this bed until you’re fully recovered. What kind of idiot are you anyway to force yourself like that?” Thomas could hear the anger in his tone, but he decided to focus more on the beautiful blush spreading.

“Well I couldn’t let you leave like that, could I?” he said, smirking. However, when he noticed the flash of guilt in the brown eyes, he tugged on his hand making him meet his gaze again.

“Come,” he said, and scooted over on the small bed. Newt raised his eyebrow at the indiscrete indication. Thomas merely sighed at the usual distrusting expression and tugged with more strength, though Newt could easily win against his weakened state.

“If you force me to stay in this bed all day, the least you can do is keep me company.” The mischievous smirk spreading on his face ought to be a warning, but after finally getting his Tommy back, Newt couldn’t help but comply. He snuck under the duvet that Thomas had so mercilessly thrown, making sure Thomas was comfortably tugged in. Thomas sneaked his arms around the blond, pulling him towards his chest like he had done so many times before. Newt put a hand on Thomas’ neck, making him look down at him. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to the slightly dry lips. Their breaths mingled as Newt tried to convey all his feelings of loneliness and need that he had felt in the other’s absence. Thomas’ brown eyes radiated the understanding and love that Newt had missed so incredibly much. He closed his eyes, and leaned closer to rest his forehead against the other’s.

“Promise me?” Newt asked, the usual question involving much more than usual. He was not only asking for him to be safe, to return. He was conveying his incomprehensible _need_ , his desire, his love towards the other. The two words were a seal, more than a promise, a vow. A declaration of love, but more than that. A declaration of undying trust, of loyalty until the end, of sincere honesty. He answered without hesitation.

“I promise.”

**_Fin_ **


End file.
